Page 98 of Chokehold
Trying to slide from under him so I can get to the bathroom, he tightens around me. With a shake of his head, he kisses the side of my neck. “Don’t move.”
“I’m seconds from pissing all over you. If that’s not a kink of yours, then I highly suggest you let me go.”
His head lifts, staring down at me. “Come straight back to bed.”
Shifting from under him until I’m sitting on the edge of the bed, I breathe, needing to cool down. The room is hot as hell and being glued to him has me feeling like a furnace.
Once I relieve myself and turn on the shower, I stick my head out to see Blaise sitting up against the headboard, only in his boxers, and checking his phone. His brows are knitting together, and I wonder if it’s Mia.
She told me she loved Blaise too. Will she try to get back with him? Will she worm her way back into his heart?
It’s not as if she did anything wrong. Her and Blaise were good together before she magically had this weird fascination with me, which I only made worse by fucking her mouth while Blaise took her from behind.
I keep the thoughts at bay while I shower, coming out of the bathroom in a towel to see Blaise still frowning at his phone.
“Everything okay?”
He quickly shuts off his phone and glances up at me. “Yeah. Just some of the guys wanting to head out again tonight. I said I was busy.”
I step forward. “Are you busy?”
“I could be,” he says quietly. “What are your plans?”
I shrug, making my way to the dresser to grab boxers and sweats. Dropping the towel, I give him a view of my ass, and then conceal it within my clothes. I turn to see his eyes lowered.
“Stop checking me out.”
He scoffs and shakes his head, sliding off the bed and kind of hovering for a bit. Running his hand through his hair, he then glances between the bed and the door. “I better…” He gulps, looking at me. “I’m gonna shower and get dressed.”
I nod once, and he’s out of the room like a fire lit under his ass.
Nervous Blaise makes butterflies go nuts inside of me. Seeing him all flustered, all anxious, fidgety, and unsure of his next steps, brings me joy in the best way.
Once I’m fully dressed and downstairs, I clean up and fill the dishwasher. Transferring wet laundry to the dryer and grabbing the vacuum. Mom got some workers over to fix the house, and as much as she cleaned and cleaned, sawdust and flakes from the plastering are still sitting around. I try to get most of it, ending up throwing off my shirt from sweating.
I turn off the vacuum and drop onto the sofa. How the fuck does my mom do this every damn day? I’m two hours in and feel like I could sleep for weeks.
Blaise comes downstairs, freshly washed and wearing jeans and a sweater. He’s fixed his unruly hair, and the shirt he has under his sweater nearly covers the hickey I gave him. Nearly.
I smirk at my work of art as he drops onto the sofa in front of me.
“I told my friends I’d meet them at eight. It’s been a while.”
Staring at him, I don’t grace him with a reply. He shouldn’t feel the need to explain to me if he wants to see his friends. I’ll just do the same. I need to talk to them all anyway about Jackson and the position I’m now in with them all. Samson and Keith are talking to me as normal, some of the jocks sending me memes or screenshots of shit Jackson has been saying, so I know there’s no bad blood against me for smashing the window to get me and Blaise out of Keith’s house.
I want to ask him if he plans on telling his friends about us. That we’re…messing around? Seeing how it goes? Testing the line to see where we can cross despite our family ties?
Is he my boyfriend? Fuck toy?
“I have a question,” I say, and I see all the color drain from his pretty face. He straightens his spine, grabbing his knees, waiting for me to keep going.
“How many times has my dad called?”
He chews his lip and drops his gaze, thinking to himself. Maybe he’ll make up a lie, or he’ll be honest. Who knows. But his silence is deafening.
“Tell me, Blaise,” I say. “I deserve to know.”
“He just wanted to talk to you.”
